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He Who Takes

The pain blares in my head and drips from my eyes.

Migraine they call it, but it's so much more. It's not

all about my pain though.

It's about the pain of others.

 

I see war, which causes death.

I see the blade shoved in

his stomach.

At that moment, I feel the cold blade

inside of me.

I die with the man.

I bleed out

and we are gone.

Death is unstoppable.

 

I see fatal illness, which causes death.

She breathes her last couple of breaths,

saying goodbye to her mommy.

Her mother says goodbye.

I'm saying goodbye.

And like that,

she is gone.

Her mother holds her cold hand.

I am holding her hand.

Little do we know we die we die later of a broken

heart.

Fatal illness is restless and hungry.

 

I see suicide, which is another way of death.

The bully leaves holes in the boy's heart.

Blood strains from the holes in my heart.

He feels the pills kicking in

as his body shuts down.

I can't move my body.

We smile and say farewell,

forgetting there was another option then this one.

Suicide is forgetful.

 

Now that I have seen it,

I've decided. Death is many things, but it is not

foolish. It chooses with a

purpose.

They aren't gone because death wanted

them.

They are gone because death

needed them.

 

Death causes himself death.

He has no one to talk or listen to.

No one to understand him. No one able

to bring him to life.

No one to love him.

Death is just a lonely thief.






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